Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Howwwwwdeeeeeeee!

So listen, it's been impossible to post until now because I've been filming on the set of Hee Haw: The Movie, in which I am playing Minnie Pearl.

No, not really. I've been visiting relatives in my hometown in southwestern Pennsylvania; but it amounts to the same thing. Sample dialogue:

Cousin Patty: Now up here on the right, this is where my mom was on the way to pick me up from kindergarten and she killed a pig.Franklin: She what?Cousin Patty: She killed a pig. The family that had this farm, they had a pet pig and it'd come out every day and meet their little boy off the school bus, and my mother got too close with the car and she killed the pig.Franklin: That's terrible.Cousin Patty: Yeah, for the rest of her life every time she come 'round that corner them people would stand on the porch and scream, 'PIG KILLER!'."

This was followed by cousin Patty's own story of running over a dog she thought was a deer, and my father pointed out a spot where he squashed a wayward chicken with his motorcycle.

The only living thing I've ever killed, aside from the occasional insect, was a potted geranium so I felt quite unable to contribute to the conversation.

On the other hand, I had a great time looking over not one, but two collections of vintage needlework. I'll post those in the next few days, once I'm home again.

I'm wondering if anybody out there might be able to offer me a lift from my place on the north side (4000 north and the lake) over to the shop? If not, I can make do, but I'd be most grateful. (You wouldn't have to drive me home - that's taken care of). If you can help out, please drop a note to franklin at franklinhabit daht cahm. Aside from gratitude, I can offer quite nice yarn.

Gotta go. It's time to skin something or shuck something or harvest something or something.

Your post reminded me that global warming apparently has affected the skunks up here- they're hibernating early and on the side of the road. There is more road kill per mile than I've ever seen- most of it, ironically, in the wildlife preserve.

If wishes were horses I'd saddle up, drive to Chicago and SO pick you up to go to the shoot. (It would mean you'd have to go to Chicago. From Madison. YEAH, and your point IS????) {sigh} nevermind, but know that if'n I could, I shorely would.

My dad lived in the backwoods for a while, he thought it would be a good idea to have a few chickens, but they kept getting out of the run and getting hit by cars. Mangled animals sure are good conversation fodder.

I was going to be in southwestern Pennsylvania this very weekend, driving my Canadian arse down there to buy a Canadian spinning wheel cheaper than I can get it here ... but someone wonderful is giving me a free one instead. I could have enjoyed real or imagined proximity to Franklin!

Oh! I have relatives that live in "the Patch" in SW PA, too! Where they actually get time off from grade school for the mandatory deer hunt.

Where one time my niece arrived home in the wee hours after a night of hard drinkin' t'find her way to the front door blocked by her nemesis, a raccoon. So what did she do? Despite barely being able to stand upright and convinced there were three of 'em, she went and grabbed a shotgun, took aim, and blasted the sucker dead on.

Where another time, we were as kids riding horses down from the mountain at the end of a day spent racing across the ridge, and up through the trees came the loveliest sound--by God LIVE Appalachian fiddle music, being played by the completely insane neighbor up the way.

Wait, you were in my neck of the woods this weekend? If I had known, I would have taken you out. Er, except I was in the hospital all weekend. Oops. I guess it's just as well -- I mean, we do have some very good hospitals in Western PA, but I'd imagine you'd want to do something else than hang out in one.

Even though they say ever'thang's bigger in Texas, pretty much the only thing you can run over in a car is armadillos and squirrels. (And pedestrians-- but they should know better.) Nobody would miss an armadillo or a squirrel. Happy trails.

That is fantastic. I also have some out-of-the-way cousins. One called my mom and said, "Caaar-lyn, you'll never guess what we're doin'! Richard found a turtle on the side of the road and is cleanin' it now and we're goin' have some turtle an' dumplin's!"

True story. They actually put photos of the event on a poster at my Uncle Preston's 80th birthday.

I almost fell off the couch laughing at this post. I just spent the last 8 years living in Kansas, and I'm from PA, so I can actually relate to people saying those sorts of things. Still doesn't sound any more normal, no matter how many times you hear it, though.

As long as it's not time to give any male horse a bath. Trust me. It's...interesting ...when you're 15, extremely shy, female, and have just moved out to the country and joined 4-H, to find that when you wash your gelding, you're supposed to wash everything. Even sensitive parts normally hidden. Which leads to the inevitable fact that if they're currently hidden during the bath, you're supposed to coax said parts out. (I never quite had the guts to ask precisely how one was supposed to accomplish this. And frankly, if I were a male horse faced with a bath in extremely cold water, I'd hide every sensitive part I could, too.)

The worst part, though, was when some of the neighbors drove by while I was trying to attempt this for the first time. Don't wash your horse in front of the barn that's right by the side of the road. For some reason, even from country people, you get the weirdest looks when you're groping your horse's groin with one hand, while holding a hose with running water in the other...

Dang it, it's hard not ter kill things left and rights sometimes even her in Ioway. Though I must admit, even though we have about 5 hogs/1 human, I have never even come remotely close to killing livestock. Strike that. I have never come close to killing livestock with my car.

As a small child, I watched my Iowan farmwife aunt behead chickens by grabbing them by their necks and spinning them helicopter style in the air until the neck snapped and the chicken body went flying. My brother and I got the job of either chasing the headless chicken to wherever it fell and bringing it back so she could pluck and cook them, or picking up the heads and throwing them in a bucket. Good times. Hope you aren't acquiring those nightmares.

My coworkers are thinking that I've taken too many drugs for my cold because I'm sitting here in my veal fattening pen chortling myself silly with your post and the comments. Thanks for the belly laugh.

seems like the only difference from your family and my family is that those tragedies would have been followed up by wonderful dinners... seems that in my past a relative actually killed (kilt?) a deer by running over it and proceeded to retrieve it, carved it up and ate for weeks.... it's enough to turn a converted cityboy vegetarian! (eek!)

You can get there via Metra - I think the train station is just around the corner from the shop. Check out http://www.metrarail.com and look for the trains that leave from the LaSalle street station.Maybe I will be there, too!cheers,Nancy G.

Welp, sir, I tell ya. I grew up in northern WV (basically, the same place) though my family isn't from there, which made me an outsider. You know what I mean. And yet, I do loooove that area. Hope you have a great time in a non-Chicago landscape for a bit! And P.S. - I saw you a couple weeks ago in Andersonville but had on my shy hat. Hi.

When my mom was walking home from kindergarten(circa 1927), she actually got hit by a hearse! It didn't have a "passenger", so, guess how she got to the hospital! Yes! The hearse brought her there! How's that for twisted!

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